How I Make My Bed

Bloodless, Alabaster silk,

Spineless, can't get off mom's milk,

She says I tuck boys in too tight,

Maybe she's right,

Sometimes I can't bare to let them go at night,

Anemic, you can't believe it,

Never truth to be told,

Spill more wine on my soul,

You keep saying these boys don't have enough gold,

But boys squeeze my heart out crimson on my pale sheets,

While mom regurgitates Saturday night's vacant gaze, red wine across my comforter, but still asks why I'm bleeding,

You see these stained sheets can only be used in late night motels and run down homes,

If you're lucky maybe you'll one day find a place to call home,

Well if someone will keep you that long....